


PerfectSadness

by Tardisfreak



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Emo, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Male Slash, Sad, Sail - AWOLNATION, Sexual Content, Smutlet, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tardisfreak/pseuds/Tardisfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-traumatic event in Dan & Phil's lives. A feel-y emo smutlet songfic fluff :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	PerfectSadness

**Author's Note:**

> It's Dan's POV. Originally wrote this for Phan, but you can imagine any ship you like, no names are mentioned. It's a songfic to the song "Sail" by AWOLNATION, and it's good if you listen to it while reading cause it creates tha feels better ;) This is my first attempt at a hurt smutlet songfic AND my first attempt to post anything on here so I'm very sorry if it's shit/something goes horribly wrong. Reviews and such are much appreciated :]

Perfect Sadness - A Song Fic

We stared into each others eyes. I could feel the tension, the passion, always oppressed, rising to the surface. I felt like all of my feelings from the last weeks were being compressed into this moment... Desire. Anger. Lust. Sadness. Melancholia. So much passion. It seemed inevitable that our lips met at that moment, crushing, moulding together in a desperate, needy, hurt kiss. Our bodies, now pressed up against the mirrors on the wall, rocked against each other, twisting, gyrating, in agony and in want. It was a feeling I had never before experienced... I felt sad, betrayed, angry, and so desperate. And yet it felt perfect to be pressed up against him like this, feeling his warmth, his pain, his hurt. It was a kind of pure, piercing, exhilarating feeling, it reminded me irrevocably of that night at the cliff where the rain was pouring down, mixing with our tears. Back then we had been just as desperate. In the background I heard thunder rolling. Despite all of this pain, I smiled. How strangely perfect. Pushing me away from him, but never letting his gaze falter from mine, he walked up to the music player, which stood in the far left corner of the dancing studio in which we had met to "discuss". The raw emotion in his face was stunning. I felt absolutely devastated at his beauty, his cyan eyes looking right through me. He pressed the play button. "Sail" by AWOLINATION started to play. I closed my eyes momentarily. This song... This was ... No. Not perfect. More. It meant so much to us, it had been "our song" right from the start. Now it fit our situation so well I almost laughed. I blinked, and in that moment he was upon me again, tangling us in a rough, dominating embrace. We fell to the floor, twisting our bodies together in impossible formations. This was not romantic, because romanticism is sweet. This was almost the opposite. It was beautiful, broken, fragmented, the shards slicing our souls. But I embraced the pain, because after all that had happened... This was a different kind of hurt. It was bitter-sweet, a hurt that promised healing. Our souls would grow back together.  
But not in the way they used to be, supposed to be, but like a bone that hadn't been set right before it healed. They would be twisted, crippled, mutated.  
And that was ok. As long as we would grow back together, we would be sick and twisted in our own way. Yes, this hurt... Felt good. Felt right.  
By now, he was on top of me, wrapping stands of my hair around his fingers and pulling, creating delicious friction against my scalp. I moaned, and grasped upwards, raking my nails across his back, earning a low hiss of pleasure. I pushed upwards with my leg until I was on top if him again, straddling him. But he would not let me dominate, and promptly rolled over again, and so we fought for control, rolling over and over on the rough rosin-coated planks of the dance floor, gasps and moans and sometimes manic laughs escaping our mouths, and we danced.

Afterwards, we sat, leaning against the wall, looking out of the huge windows covering almost all of the north side of the studio, out into the dusk forest. Strange. We had met to talk and yet we hadn't exchanged a single word since we got here. But when I turned to stare into his eyes, I knew why. As horribly clichè as that sounds, there was no need for words. We both felt the same. Connected.  
Instead, we just listened to the trees and felt a strange happiness, floating away in our bubble.  
Our own weird, sick, painful, private, happy world.


End file.
